


Chandelier

by azriona



Series: Advent Calendar Drabbles 2017 [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (i cannot believe that's an actual tag), (it must not mean what i think it means), 221B Ficlet, Advent Calendar Drabble, Between Seasons 2 and 3, Between Seasons/Series, Dream Bubbles, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Mary is mentioned but does not appear, Post-Reichenbach, Reichenbach Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: “Obviously, it was the chandelier that tipped me off,” said Sherlock.





	Chandelier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earlgreytea68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/gifts).



> It's the sixth night of Hanukkah, and today's prompt is from earlgreytea68, who gave me the single word "chandelier." I was stumped for a day, and then came up with this weird little idea of a fic, which was sort of kinda maybe half inspired by the movie Inception, which I saw once a billion years ago and now mostly only know via Arthur/Eames fanfic. (What do you mean, the movie wasn't about them?)

“Obviously, it was the chandelier that tipped me off,” said Sherlock. “Its energy source is quite impossible.”

“The chandelier?” asked John dubiously. Glass baubles floated in midair around the room, their tethers to the ceiling nearly invisible to the eye. Each glistened like it was made of soap; John watched as they danced, shimmering and trembling, ready to pop. Their light waxed and waned with a warm orange-and-yellow glow. “What’s impossible about it? I think it’s lovely.”

“Of course you do. You married an assassin because she was pretty, John,” said Sherlock seriously.

John said, “That’s not—” One of the baubles floated by his nose and distracted him before he could finish. John frowned at the bauble, wondering what it was that Sherlock saw. “Mary’s an assassin?”

“John,” said Sherlock, quite seriously, “you must learn to _observe_ and not merely see.”

“But you’re dead,” said John, confused, as Sherlock began to tremble and shimmer. “How could you know about Mary?”

“Rather ask, how can I be dead?” said Sherlock as he popped, soap bubbles flying everywhere. Just before John woke up (screaming Sherlock’s name in a hauntingly familiar echo), he saw what Sherlock meant:

Inside every bauble, rapidly eating up all the air until there was nothing left, was a tiny little flame where a bulb was meant to be.


End file.
